My new friend, Toby

My daughter Val has had the same carpet cleaner for years. It was time for his services, but she couldn't reach him. After persistently trying off and on over a month's time, she finally reached him. He had a pretty bad stroke a year ago, couldn't work, lost his business and was about to lose his house. She has a soft heart, went to his place, found him and his house and his dog in shambles. The two finches who were living in an entertainment center seemed in good health. She couldn't find any dog food in the house and suspicioned that the dog, Toby, was eating bird seed. She took him to Trader Joe's, where he got some food for himself and pet food, and has been keeping an eye on him. He is suicidal, is alienated from his family, and has decided lying down in a snow bank is a pretty painless way to go. She called government agencies, tried to get him some help. He is about to lose his house, he said he has maybe two or three more months and then his savings are totally gone. She suspicions that he is continuing to have some mini strokes. She tried to find homes for the pets so she could take him to the hospital. She found a home for the birds, but not the dog. She said he was very sweet, but dirty, probably malnourished, not very attractive. I said if she couldn't find a home for him, I would take him until Patrick was on his feet and could take him back. She is also looking into housing for him. So how is she going to find housing that will take in a dog and two finches, along with Patrick, who is very ill? Last Sunday, Val and her husband Mike went to Patrick's house and convinced him that he should check in to a hospital, that she would take Toby to me, and that I would take excellent care of him. So Mike and Patrick went to hospital, where Val's suspicions were confirmed. Patrick has had several more small strokes. Val and I met halfway between Mishawaka and Zionsville to do the dog exchange. Yup, he was a mess! But a good boy with a sweet personality. I made sure I would have someone at my house when Toby met Fred, my dog, especially with ice and snow on ground and me in a boot from a fractured bone or two in my foot. I didn't need to have two fighting dogs on my hands, so my friend Jim was there to help when I got home. No need to worry - they got on fine.

I've been reading up on how to train an adult dog that has peed and pooped wherever he wants for 14 or 15 years. I'm trying the umbilical method. He is now tied to me via a long leash, which Phyllis Panozzo made for one of my dogs many years ago. He is pretty good if I watch him all the time because he heads towards a door before he lets loose, but I don't always pay attention. Now, when he heads for the door, I know it because he is attached to me and will be pulling me along as he heads for the door. Yesterday he must have followed Fred out the automatic door while I was at the vet's picking up some paperwork. Of course, he couldn't get back in because he didn't yet have the magic fob on his collar that operates the dog door. Fortunately I had gotten him his rabies shot the day before, tag on collar with vet's name on it. Someone picked him up on Lincoln Way East, where he almost got hit by a bus. They called my vet's office, got my number and got him back to me. I had been driving around but hadn't gotten that far from home. I had also tramped through the snow by the river worried that he might have gone in. A friend chided me for getting an old dog a rabies shot. Did you know that you cannot get a dog groomed in Indiana unless you bring in the paperwork that shows the dog has a current vaccine? Of course, when she heard that she understood why I did it. Thank goodness that tag was on his collar. I might never have gotten him back without that tag!

Jenna grooming Toby

All done!

Back home and having dinner

Beautiful Toby!

I am already in love. But he is Patrick's dog, and if Patrick finds a way to take him back, he will go to his owner. All's well that ends well, and I'm not sure walking around with a dog attached to my dog leash "umbilical cord" is the best ending. What will be will be.

First post surgery CT scan

I had a malignant sarcoma known as a GIST (Gastro Intestinal Stromal Tumor). It grows on a stalk and lights somewhere between your throat and your anus. I lovingly refer to it as the "a-hole to appetite" tumor.

Mine was near the top of my stomach, close to the esophagus, a very bad place. Initial diagnosis from first surgeon was to take the whole stomach and about a fourth of the esophagus, unless we could shrink it enough with chemotherapy to take less.

The chemo didn't work. In fact, it damned near killed me. My liver enzymes hit 577, and I started having daily (and quite intense) Prinzmetal's angina attacks. Those attacks are caused by spasms in the coronary arteries, which shut off blood supply to the heart - in other words, small heart attacks that can become big ones without immediate attention. I keep nitroglycerin tablets in a locket around my neck. I have three or four of these a year, pop a tablet, sit down for a couple of minutes and all is well again. But while on chemo, during the last six days, I had seven of them, so severe that it took two tablets and 10 or more minutes of lying down and trying not to think about the elephant on my chest.

So I had no choice but to have surgery, and have it quickly. Dr. Google and I had some long chats, and I got some good information from a GIST board. Dana Farber cancer clinic in Boston was number one on the list of centers of excellence for GISTs. I was there meeting with surgeon and oncologist within 10 days.

The oncologist there insisted that it was a rather terrible tumor (the oncologist here in Indiana disagreed). The surgeons disagreed as well. The Indy surgeon recommended a total gastrectomy, the surgeon in Boston said he could remove a small bit of stomach wall and leave the esophagus completely alone.

Again, Dr. Google and I did some consulting, and I decided to go to Boston for the surgery. The surgeon removed only 10% of the stomach wall, and I was eating fried chicken within two weeks!

I love food. I couldn't think of anything more horrible than losing my stomach. I was quite sure I had made the right decision. However, over time if I had any kind of distress in the gastrointestinal tract, I was sure I had made the wrong one, and that I was filling up with tumors. My fears became more frequent and more irrational as I got close to the six-month mark, date for first CT scan. In fact, I asked the oncologist to move up the date of the scan. He did, and five months and one week after the surgery, I had my first scan. It was clean as a whistle!

In another six months, another scan, and then another and another, every six months. If they are all clear (and today I am sure they will be), I go to a scan every 10 years.

I am very thankful for my good health, and for a healthy GI tract. :)

Yeast in my kitchen, hard at work!

Tomorrow I take in baked goods to my booth at the market. The work started last night, when I fed my sourdough a little extra for Tartine's recipe for country boules. This morning when I got up for my workout at Crossfit, I tested it, and it wasn't at the float stage. If the starter sinks to the bottom of a bowl of water, it doesn't yet have enough gas in it to make bread rise. By the time I got home from working out, it was perfect!

I also started my poolish, which is sort of a sourdough, because you mix flour, water and a tiny bit of yeast and let it sit on the counter for 12 hours before making the dough for French baguettes. It enriches the flavor, and allows me to use only half as much yeast in the finished dough.

I then fed my rye sourdough, filled the jar nearly to the top, so that I would have the 15 ounces of active sourdough to make two loaves of sourdough rye. This morning, I ground the rye berries, caramelized the onions and mixed the sourdough with water and the freshly ground rye flour.

The coffee beans on the counter by the new ferments are there to attract yeast that like coffee - or so one of my bread baking books says they will do. Left to right, the poolish for nine baguettes (will bake in the morning), the rising rye dough with a new jar of starter in front, and rising dough for boules with new starter in square bowl in front.

Poolish for baguettes, sourdough rye rising, country boule on first rise. 

By 3 this afternoon, I set the rye bread and boules to rise. The baguette dough will be made this evening, refrigerated for a slow rise, then in the morning, loaves are formed, set to rise, and baked. They are always still warm when I leave for market.

Two loaves of rye rising, two boules rising (one round, one oblong)

Buzzer just went off. Time to turn on oven and get ready to bake bread!